Saturday 3rd December 2022

The news was that Jools' cough was little better. She got a mail back from the surgery on Friday saying her (non-urgent) appointment with the doctor was on December 14th. But as we were going to Tesco, she would have a chat with the pharmasist and see about some of the behind the counter stuff.

Winter has arrived, though no snow as yet, but the wind is set in the east, its cloudy and feels raw outside.

I would spend part of the day churchcrawling.

After shopping.

We go to Tesco, Jools really only coming so she could get something for her cough.

With a few bottles of tripel and cider we managed to spend £140. A bag of rice, not white easy cook rice I'll admit, but that's £4.50 now.

Wow.

Back home with the shopping and a bottle of serious cough syrup, we put the shopping away and have breakfast.

No surprise then that Jools wasn't coming out with me, she wanted to get the cough under control, would only take the new syrup when needed as it can make you drowsy.

I had a list of churches, and first up was our local one, St Margaret.

They were having a craft day. I thought it might be a fayre, but was a kid's craft day. Anyway, the church would be open and I could take shots of the memorials and windows.

There were pagan heads at the top of each column, and as corbel stones. The more I looked, the more pagan heads, even at the top of two of the columns, but not all.

No real ancient glass, but good quality Victorian.

The church itself is the triumph, being an early Norman and well preserved.

Although, sadly, the tower is in poor repair and needs reroofing, which is why it is currently encased in scaffolding.

I am sure when we called in at Barham last week, a sign said there was a craft fayre on, so would be open. I would go back, and get some shots, I thought.

Its a half hour drive, if that out of Dover down the A2 and off at the Wingham turning, down the valley and parking outside the church, its spire pointing to heaven.

Inside the church there was no fayre again, just a warden showing a lady round. We all said "hello", and I went about getting shots.

I have been here at least three times, but now take the big lens to get details of the windows and memorials high up, so there are always new details to reveal.

Star item is the window of St George and the dragon, though is hidden in the north-west corner, and best viewed from the stairs to the belltower.

After 20 minutes, the visitor left and the warden turned off the lights, forgetting I was there, but I had my shots.

From Barham its a short drive to Bridge, then along the Nailbourne to Patrixbourne, where I see the door was open, but I had another target: Bekesbourne, the next village along, crossing the dry bed of the bourne, stopping on the lane outside the church. I look left to the Old Palace, but there were no cars parked there, so no point of even knocking, I drove on.

Instead of turning left back to Bridge, I turn right towards Littlebourne, no real idea where I was going.

Littlebourne could wait for another time, I only went back there in 2020, I went to Wingham, driving on towards Sandwich.

I thought, it's a long time since I was at Woodnesborough, I couldcut through Ash and go there.

Which is what I did.

I could have stopped at Ash too, that's usually open, but there'll be other times. I have been there twice and got good shots last time for sure.

From Ash, the road climbs, leading to Woodnesborough, Woden's Hill, where there was a hill fort in antiquity. The church is on the highest point, overlooking the marshes of the old Wantum Channel, and on to Sandwich which when the Channel was still flooded, was on a spit of land.

The church is a marker for miles around due to its cupola, something is shares with Ringwould near to home.

Inside it was so dark, I thought I would need to find the lights, but I could not find them. So, I hoped the camera would cope without.

It did.

But again, I was here really to record the windows, which were rich in detail. I took 215 shots here, 560 in a morning at three churches.

Not bad.

But I was done, what light there was, was fading, even though it was only just after one. I would go home.

Once home I got busy.

I have a taste for beans. Not baked beans, but Boston Beans. I had a recipe, and we got the ingredients that morning, so went about making a huge panful. Three tins of haricot beans, tomatoes, stock, spices, bacon, pork belly, mustard, and black treacle.

Cooked on the hob for an hur, then cooked long and low in the oven for four hours.

What came out looked and tasted like fine Boston Beans. We will be eating these for weeks.

At the same time I make fritters.

The plan was to be all cooked and eaten before the football began at three.

I did it with half an hour to spare, the leftover wine drunk too, meaning I would struggle to stay awake for Holland v USA game. Netherlands win pretty comfortablly.

And in the evening, with a soundtack of funk and soul thanks to Craig, I watch Argentine v Austalia, which was a stunning game.

Even better, I sat on the sofa to watch, Cleo eyed me as if to say how dare you take my chosen sleeping place. But she came over, paced around, then lay between the arm of the sofa and my leg. Scully lay on the other side. I had 50% of the household cats.

Happier than I have been for ages.

Best of all was that the syrup worked, stopped the coughing, and Jools fell asleep right off.